As we have seen, when Maxwell began his work in Durford, he was full of the enthusiasm of youth and inexperience. He was, however, heartily supported and encouraged in his efforts by all but Sylvester Bascom. Without being actively and openly hostile, the Senior Warden, under the guise of superior wisdom and a judicial regard for expediency, managed to thwart many of his projects. After each interview with Bascom, Maxwell felt that every bit of life and heart had been pumped out of him, and that he was very young, and very foolish to attempt to make any change in "the good old ways" of the parish, which for so many years had stunted its growth and had acquired the immobility of the laws of the Medes and Persians.

But there was one parishioner who was ever ready to suggest new ventures to "elevate" the people, and to play the part of intimate friend and adviser to her good-looking rector, and that was Virginia Bascom. For some unknown reason "the people" did not seem to be acutely anxious thus to be elevated; and most of them seemed to regard Virginia as a harmless idiot with good intentions, but with positive genius for meddling in other people's affairs. Being the only daughter of the Senior Warden, and the leading lady from a social standpoint, she considered that she had a roving commission to set people right at a moment's notice; and there were comparatively few people in Durford on whom she had not experimented in one way or another. She organized a Browning club to keep the factory girls out of the streets evenings, a mothers' meeting, an ethical culture society, and a craftman's club, and, as she was made president of each, her time was quite well filled.

And now in her fertile brain dawned a brilliant idea, which she proceeded to propound to the rector. Maxwell was non-committal, for he felt the matter was one for feminine judgment. Then she decided to consult Mrs. Burke--because, while Hepsey was "not in society," she was recognized as the dominant personality among the women of the village, and no parish enterprise amounted to much unless she approved of it, and was gracious enough to assist. As Virginia told Maxwell, "Mrs. Burke has a talent of persuasiveness," and so was "useful in any emergency." If Mrs. Burke's sympathies could be enlisted on behalf of the new scheme it would be bound to succeed.

As a matter of fact, Mrs. Burke had heard rumors of this new project of Virginia's. It always went against the grain with Hepsey to say: "Don't do it." She was a firm believer in the teaching of experience: "Experience does it," was her translation of the classic adage.

And so one morning found Virginia sitting opposite Mrs. Burke in the kitchen at Thunder Cliff, knitting her brows and poking the toe of her boot with the end of her parasol in an absent-minded way. This was symptomatic.

"Anything on your mind, Virginia? What's up now?" Mrs. Burke began.

For a moment Virginia hesitated, and then replied:

"I am thinking of establishing a day-nursery to care for the babies of working women, Mrs. Burke."

Mrs. Burke, with hands on her hips, gazed intently at her visitor, pushed up her under lip, scowled, and then observed thoughtfully:

"I wonder some one hasn't thought of that before. Who's to take care of the babies?"

"Mary Quinn and I, with the assistance of others, of course."

"Are you sure that you know which is the business end of a nursing-bottle? Could you put a safety-pin where it would do the most good? Could you wash a baby without drownin' it?"

"Of course I have not had much experience," Virginia replied in a dignified and lofty way, "but Mary Quinn has, and she could teach me."

"You're thinkin', I suppose, that a day-nursery would fill a long-felt want, or somethin' like that. Who's goin' to pay the bills?"

"Oh, there ought to be enough progressive, philanthropic people in Durford to subscribe the necessary funds, you know. It is to be an auxiliary to the parish work."

"Hm! What does Mr. Maxwell say?"

"Well, he said that he supposed that babies were good things in their way; but he hadn't seen many in the village, and he didn't quite realize what help a day-nursery would be to the working women."

"That doesn't sound mighty enthusiastic. Maybe we might get the money; but who's to subscribe the babies?"

"Why, the working women, of course."

"They can't subscribe 'em if they haven't got 'em. There are mighty few kids in this town; and if you really want my candid opinion, I don't think Durford needs a day-nursery any more than it needs an icebox for cherubim. But then of course that doesn't matter much. When you goin' to begin?"

"Next Monday. We have rented the store where Elkin's grocery used to be, and we are going to fit it up with cribs, and all the most up-to-date conveniences for a sanitary day-nursery."

"Hm! Well, I'll do all I can to help you, of course. I suppose you'll find babies pushin' all over the sidewalk Monday mornin', comin' early to avoid the rush. Better get down as early as possible, Virginia."

Virginia departed.

After the furnishing of the incipient nursery had been completed, and each little crib had a new unbreakable doll whose cheeks were decorated with unsuckable paint, Virginia and Mary Quinn--invaluable in undertaking the spadework of all Virginia's parish exploits--gave an afternoon tea to which all the subscribers and their friends were invited. But when everything was in readiness for patronage, what few working women there were in Durford, possessed of the right kind of babies, seemed strangely reluctant to trust their youthful offspring to the tender mercies of Virginia Bascom and Mary Quinn.

Consequently, the philanthropic movement, started under such favorable patronage, soon reached a critical stage in its career, and Mrs. Burke was called in to contribute some practical suggestions. She responded to the summons with all due promptness, and when she arrived at the nursery, she smilingly remarked:

"Hm! But where are the babies? I thought they would be swarming all over the place like tadpoles in a pool."

"Well, you see," Virginia began, her voice quivering with disappointment, "Mary Quinn and I have been sitting here four mortal days, and not a single infant has appeared on the scene. I must say that the working women of Durford seem strangely unappreciative of our efforts to help them."

"Well," Mrs. Burke responded, "I suppose day-nurseries without babies are as incomplete as an incubator without eggs. But after all, it hardly seems worth while to go out and snatch nursing infants from their mother's breasts just to fill a long-felt want, does it? Besides, you might get yourself into trouble."

"I didn't ask you to come and make fun of me," Virginia replied touchily. "I wanted you to make some suggestions to help us out. If we don't get any babies, we might just as well close our doors at once. I should be awfully mortified to have the whole thing a failure, after all we have done, and all the advertising we have had."

Mrs. Burke sat down and assumed a very judicial expression.

"Well, Ginty dear, I'm awful sorry for you; I don't doubt you done the best you could. It'd be unreasonable to expect you to collect babies like mushrooms in a single night. All true reformers are bound to strike snags, and to suffer because they aint appreciated in their own day and generation. It's only after we are gone and others take our places that the things we do are appreciated. You'll have to resign yourself to fate, Virginia, and wait for what the newspapers call 'the vindicatin' verdict of prosperity.' Think of all the people that tried to do things and didn't do 'em. Now there's the Christian martyrs----"

For some reason Virginia seemed to have a vague suspicion that Hepsey was still making fun of her; and being considerably nettled, she interjected tartly:

"I'm not working for the verdict of posterity, and I don't care a flip for the Christian martyrs. I'm trying to conduct a day-nursery, here and now; we have the beds, and the equipment, and some money, and----"

"But you haven't got the babies, Virginia!&q............